


The Coming of the UberJAP

by MsBrooklyn



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-08
Updated: 2005-04-08
Packaged: 2019-02-05 17:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsBrooklyn/pseuds/MsBrooklyn
Summary: none





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

There were things about women that Alexander Nikolai Krycek knew he would never understand and he accepted it as one of the things in life that he could not change. And then there was Feldman. Rules that applied to ordinary women did not apply where Feldman was concerned. Yes, she did cute girlie things, like match her nail polish to her clothes or whine about getting dirt (she liked to use the Yiddish word, schmootz) on her clothes. But then there were the cute deadly things that Feldman did. And he never, ever knew if he was going to get the girlie Feldman or the deadly Feldman. 

 

Which was why he was watching her pick at her dinner instead of asking the dreaded question. He supposed it was something he did. Damned if he knew what. After all, he'd been gone almost two weeks. What could he have possibly done while he wasn't there that would piss her off this much? Unless she knew about Todd... nah, that was impossible. 

 

The waiter hovered by Feldman's elbow and cleared his throat. "Are you finished with that, miss?" 

 

Two brown eyes flashed angrily at the unlucky college kid. "Does it look like I'm finished, Einstein?" 

 

Krycek winced and watched as the poor kid stammered, "I-is there a problem with your salad?" 

 

"If I wanted a conversation from you, Weaselboy, I'd---" 

 

"She's fine," Krycek cut in, smoothly. This was going to take a twenty dollar tip if they wanted to eat here again. "She just had a bad day at work." 

 

"Uh...yeah, right." The waiter gave him a sympathetic look and ran for the safety of the kitchen. 

 

"I did not have a bad day at work," Feldman hissed at him. 

 

Okay, he could handle this. After all, he survived having his body taken over by the oilien, being locked in a missile silo, losing his arm, getting beaten up over and over and over again by Mulder. How bad could this be? "What did I do?" 

 

The petite lawyer scowled at him. "Nothing. Not a thing. Not a goddamned stinking thing." 

 

Ouch. "Maybe I should rephrase that. What didn't I do?" 

 

"It's not you." 

 

Oh. Crap. The 'it's not you, it's me' speech. He'd heard about it, read about it, but never had one directed at him. Until now. Feldman was going to tell him to take a hike. 

 

"It's my mother." 

 

What? "What?" 

 

"Well, actually, it's my cousin, Audrey." Feldman reached across the table for his glass of vodka, took a long swallow and erupted into a coughing fit that made her eyes tear and her nose run. When she finally recovered, Feldman stared at the glass a moment, started to put it back and then chugged the contents like it was water. 

 

Krycek cringed while she choked and gasped for air. 

 

Feldman dabbed at her mascara with a napkin. "Where can we get lamb's blood or goat's blood, Alex?" 

 

Could it have hit her that fast? "Um...I...what for?" 

 

"We need it for the posts and lintels." 

 

Posts. Lintels. Doorways! Okay, she was talking about doorways. "What are we warding off?" 

 

"I told you, my cousin Audrey. She's coming for a visit. Maybe she'll vaporize if we use the blood. Maybe you can have her abducted by aliens. Can we, Alex? Can we have her abducted by aliens?" 

 

At least it wasn't him. "I'm sure your cousin isn't that bad." 

 

"Yes, she is! She's such a JAP!" 

 

"Worse than you," he blurted. Oh God, now he was in for it. 

 

"Yes!!! Much worse. She's...the UberJAP!" 

 

Oh shit. Maybe he could get a nice, deadly assignment in Antarctica. 

The last time Feldman was this drunk, she shot him in the legs. Luckily, she was a bad shot or maybe a good shot, because all she did was graze him. This time, he wasn't taking any chances. Krycek took the clip out of his gun and transferred it to his pocket. Feldman leaned against the car and watched him with a grin. 

 

"You don't trust me." 

 

"Not when you're drunk." 

 

"I'm not drunk," she protested loudly. "I only had half a glass." 

 

"Shhh." He opened the passenger door and guided her inside, snapping the seatbelt over her. "There's a good kitten." 

 

"Don't call me kitten, Ratboy." 

 

"I apolgize, moi krasivya shalava." She'd never know he just called her his beautiful little slut. Heh heh. Krycek started the car and glanced once more at Feldman. Half a glass of Absolut and look at her. 

Plastered. If she didn't pass out, didn't puke on him and didn't get violent, this could be fun. That was a pretty big if. 

 

"Alex...." 

 

Please let her not have to throw up already. 

 

"You have to get us out of the country." 

 

"Sure." 

 

"No, really, I mean it. I don't want to see Audrey. I hate Audrey." 

 

"So don't see her." 

 

"My mother is making me," Feldman whined. "Do you have any idea how horrible it is to have to listen to my mother telling me about Audrey? It was bad enough when we were kids but then Audrey got married when she was twenty-five and then I had to hear all about Mark, her wonderful plastic surgeon husband and their beautiful home in Manalapan---" 

 

"Where?" 

 

"JAP-central in New Jersey. Bigger JAPs than Cherry Hill, even." She grabbed his shoulder and squeezed tightly. "Every week my mother calls me and tells me about Audrey. Why can't you be like your cousin, Audrey? Why can't you meet a nice man, like Audrey? When are you going to get married, Ellen?! When am I going to be a grandmother, Ellen?!!" 

Krycek turned to her. "You didn't tell your mother about me?" 

 

"She's pregnant." 

 

"Your mother?" 

 

"No, you idiot! Audrey!" Feldman buried her face in her hands. "I'm doomed. Audrey's coming down here on a matchmaking mission from hell." 

 

"Feldman---" 

 

"You know what the worst part is?" 

 

Did he really want to know? "Ummm..." 

 

"Because Mark is a plastic surgeon, Audrey's had more body work done than a custom 'Vette. If I have to hear one more story about how great her new tits are, I'm going to barf." Feldman screwed up her face and spoke in an eerie imitation of Fran Drescher. "Nu, my Mark made them four whole cup sizes larger. I have to buy two bikinis now, Ellen, because he liposuctioned my ass to a size six and my tits are a 38D. All his patients want tits like mine, Ellen. Feel them, Ellen. Only my Mark could make tits like that. Not even God could make tits better than my Mark." 

 

Oy vey. 

 

"And now I'm going to have to hear baby stories! My mother is going to send me pictures that my Aunt Sandra sent to her and every time I talk to my mother for the rest of my natural godforsaken life I'm going to have to hear baby stories. Does my mother care that I have a criminal case that might change the scope of permissible searches under the Fourth Amendment? No! All she cares about is when she's going to tell Sandra about how her little grandson spoke full sentences in Latin while he was still in utero!" 

 

Oy. Vey. 

 

Ellen moaned loudly. Who cared if she woke up her Ratboy? In fact, that was the whole point. Wake him up so he could fix her a cup of coffee and keep her company while she tried to keep her head from exploding. 

 

"You sound like you're dying, Feldman." 

 

Was he laughing at her? It certainly seemed like it. So she whined pitifully, "My head hurts." 

 

Alex kneeled next to her on the bathroom floor. "All that from half a glass of vodka?" 

 

"I don't drink. Usually." 

 

"So I guessed." 

 

Come on already! Offer a cup of coffee. Jeez, could he be dense about basic household etiquette. 

 

A long yawn and a slow, appraising stare. "You gonna stay on the bathroom floor all night or are you coming to bed?" 

 

"I was thinking about some coffee." There. Now maybe he'd get the hint. 

 

"Good idea. I'll have a cup if you're making." 

 

He had to be kidding. Right? No, he didn't look like he was kidding. The putz. Ellen stared at him. Alex stared back. Nobody blinked. She wanted coffee. Bad. "Make me a cup of coffee, Alex." 

 

"Why should I?" Slightly miffed tone. 

 

Ellen blinked and stood up on shaky legs. "What? What's your problem?" 

 

"You wanna know what my problem is, kitten?" Krycek rested his palm on her shoulder, steadying her. "I want to know why you didn't tell your mother about me." 

 

What?! He had to be kidding. No, look at that face. He was not kidding. That's twice she'd been wrong about that. Must be the effects of the vodka, she mused. Ellen thought fast. Best defense is a good offense. Yeah. Perfect. "Did you tell your mother about me?" 

 

"That would be hard, Feldman, she's dead. Of course, I could call Mulder and hold a seance if that would make you happy. But you still didn't answer my question. Why didn't you tell your mother about me?" 

 

"Can we not discuss this in the bathroom?" When in doubt, stall. "This is too serious a conversation to have in a bathroom." 

 

"What difference does it make where we have this conversation, Feldman? Does the tile affect your ability to distort the truth beyond all reason?" 

 

"Actually the echo is making my head throb." 

 

"Fine." He took her by the elbow, steered her down the hall to the bedroom and sat her down on the bed, towering over her. 

 

Ellen knew that trick and she was tempted to stand up on the bed, see how he liked looking up at her, for a change, but it would look ridiculous and she wanted to look authoritative. So she stood up and moved into his personal space. Three inches apart, to be exact. Krycek didn't blink, just kept staring down at her. 

 

"Well?" 

 

"Well what?" 

 

"Why didn't you tell your mother about me?" 

 

Fine, if he wanted to know that badly.... "Well, y'know, because you're...uh...." 

 

"An assassin?" 

 

"No." 

 

"Because I'm wanted by the police?" 

 

"No." 

 

"Because I've only got one arm?" 

 

"NO!" How could he think that? "The arm doesn't matter, Alex. It just means we have to be more creative in bed." 

 

The corners of his mouth quirked and then he was stern again. "Because of the men?" 

 

"Well....no, not really." 

 

"What the hell is it, then, Feldman? I've run out of objectionable characteristics. Other than those things, I'm perfect." 

 

"Almost perfect," she said, quietly. 

 

"Almost? Almost?!" Krycek leaned down, his face a centimeter from hers. "What is it, in your humble opinion, that mars my perfection, Feldman?" 

 

"You're not Jewish." 

 

Not Jewish. She couldn't care less that he killed people for a living, didn't mind his arm, was fudging about the men, but religion? Unbelievable. "You're ashamed of me because I'm not Jewish." 

 

"I'm not ashamed, exactly." 

 

"Well, what are you exactly?" 

 

Feldman licked her lips, her pink tongue roaming slowly, seductively. That was a new trick. He liked it. A lot. "Afraid. My mother would kill me." 

 

"In that case, kitten, you have nothing to be afraid of. I'm Jewish." 

 

"You are NOT! Don't lie! You can lie about a lot of things, Alex, but let's face it, you are not Jewish! You're a shkutz." 

 

"Shkutz?" 

 

"The male version of shiksa." 

 

"Clarify that for me." 

 

A weary sigh. "You know what it means." 

 

"I think I know. Tell me what you mean." 

 

"A Gentile." 

 

Nice of her to omit the derogatory definition of non-Jewish tramp. "My mother, Feldman, was Jewish. If I'm not mistaken, that would make me one of the chosen people." 

 

"Forget it, Alex. The nose gives you away." 

 

"What about my nose?" 

 

"Jews don't have noses like that. Not without plastic surgery, anyway." 

 

"I told you, Feldman, I'm half Jewish." Feldman was going to kill him surer than any bullet fired by the Consortium. "Half! Understand?!" 

 

Feldman sniffed at this. "You don't observe any of the holidays, do you?" 

 

"Look..." Deep breath, Alex. Yeah, that's better. "My mother was Jewish. She didn't practice because practicing religion was against the law in the Soviet Union at the time. When she got to the United States, she didn't bother with the traditions. I may have had a bris, but I doubt it. There was no bar mitzvah, no Hebrew school, none of that. But she was Jewish, okay? Got it? Any more questions?!" 

 

"Yeah." Big brown eyes stared up into his. "Would you please make me a cup of coffee?" 

 

Why? Why him? Oh, that's right. He was in love with Ellen Feldman. 

Slam! 

 

"Here's your coffee." 

 

Slam! 

 

"You take it with milk, right?" 

 

Thunk! 

 

Ellen nearly leaped out of the chair when he slammed the phone down on the table in front of her. Wow. Her Ratboy was pissed. Still, the coffee smelled like he used just the right amount of her Godiva double chocolate. A small taste told her she was right. Ahhhh. 

 

Krycek grabbed the other kitchen chair, spun it around and straddled it, resting his arm on the back and his chin on his arm. 

 

Oh man. She hadn't seen him that pissed since 1995. How would you define that look on his face? Brooding? Yeah, that was a good word for it. She looked down at the phone and then back up at her Ratboy as she suddenly realized what he wanted. "Oh, Ratbo---" 

 

"Would you stop calling me that, already? My name is Alex. ALEX! Got that?!" 

 

Forget brooding. He was furious and working hard not to explode. "But I---" 

 

"You want a cute pet name for me? Try Sasha or Alyosha---" 

 

"Harder, Alyosha, harder?" She wasn't even going to touch Sasha. 

 

"It sounds a hell of a lot better than Ratboy." 

 

"B-but I like Ratboy -" 

 

"I don't and since I'm Ratboy, I think my preferences should matter!" 

 

Hoo boy. What an upset camper he was. Ellen took a deep breath. "All right. Alyo-Alex. I can't call my mother now." 

 

"Why the hell not?" 

 

"Because it's two o'clock in the morning. There's no time difference between DC and New York and if I wake up my mother, she'd think I was in trouble---" 

 

"She'd be right." 

 

"I'll call her in the morning." That would give her plenty of time to figure out what she was going to say. 

 

"What are you going to tell her?" 

 

That's what she needed the next eight hours to figure out. "What do you want me to tell her?" 

 

"The truth," he said, coldly. "You do remember how to do that, don't you?" 

 

"The truth. Like..." Think fast, Feldman. Think. Think. "I've met someone and...." 

 

"What do you normally tell your mother when you meet a guy you like?" 

 

"How the hell would I know?! You think I call my mother every week to tell her I met somebody?!" 

 

Krycek growled in frustration and said between clenched teeth, "What did you tell her about Mulder?" 

 

"I didn't." 

 

"You never told her about Mulder?" 

 

"How could I? If I told her about Mulder and all the crap I had to go through because of him, she would have had me committed! Especially if I told her you were kidnapping me every other day!" 

 

"So it's my fault you never told your mother about Mulder?!" 

 

Ellen got to her feet. He wanted to argue? He picked the wrong person. "Okay, you want me to tell my mother? How's this? Hi, Mom, I want to tell you about this great guy I've been seeing. His name's Alex. How did I meet him? You'll like this, Mom. I met him in 1995 when he shot me. He also kidnapped me and -" 

 

"You have nothing more positive to say about me?" 

 

"I said you were a great guy!" 

 

"Why do I put up with this?!" Krycek jumped off the chair, nearly toppling it. He stormed down the hall to her bedroom, slamming the bedroom door. 

 

Ellen winced. What the hell did he want from her life? It wasn't as if they were a normal couple. Why did he keep trying to be one? She sighed and finished the coffee. No way she could let him leave with this hanging over them, but how could she stop him? 

 

She leaned back in the chair, knocking his leather jacket off of it. Her fingers caressed the butter-soft leather as she picked it up. Mmmm. It smelled like him. She slipped into it. Way too big, but it felt nice. What was this thing in the inner pocket? A flip-top tube of Japanese lube? Her eyes wandered to the shoulder holster hanging over the chair and that's when she had the idea. 

 

Why did he put up with Feldman? Love only went so far. Or did it? Thirty-two years old and damned if he'd ever been in love before. How much crap was a guy supposed to take? 

 

"Meeeow?" Winky stood in the center of the bed, eyeing him expectantly. 

 

"Your mother's a bitch." 

 

"Myeh." 

 

"You'd think she'd be like other girls and telling me she loved me every thirty seconds, but nooo, not Feldman." He pulled on his jeans. "Would it kill her to act like a girl, just once, about something other than nail polish? I'd even settle for an 'I really like you, Alex,' but do you think I get that? No, I get 'Oh Ratboy, my Ratboy' - fucking Ratboy...why does she have to be such a pain in the ass?" 

 

"Myeh." 

 

"Exactly." He stroked the cat under the chin and was rewarded with an affectionate head butt to his arm. "See you later, pal." 

 

"Mew?" 

 

"No, I have to get out of here before I kill her." Krycek sighed and opened the bedroom door. Hopefully she wasn't still in the kitchen and he could grab his jacket and gun and leave in peace. 

 

"Mul-derrrrr." 

 

Oh. Crud. 

 

Feldman was leaning against the wall, her hips thrust forward in a fair approximation of how he'd be doing it. And she was naked except for his leather jacket and shoulder holster. The gun, thankfully, wasn't in the holster. Instead, she put his lube in there. And she called him Mulder. On one hand, it was cute - the jacket was so big on her it almost reached her knees, she looked like a little girl playing dress up. On the other hand, no little girl had tits like those. Or smelled like that. Just from wearing his jacket. Unless she started without him. Either way, it was as sexy as hell. 

 

"Mul-derrr," she trilled again, mimicking him almost perfectly. Christ, she even had his body language down pat. "Where are you going? We have things to discuss. I have information for you." 

 

This was a first. Yes, he did role-playing, but nobody ever wanted to be him before. Who but Feldman would have thought of it? And she wanted him to be Mulder. Maybe she ought to have been more careful what she asked for. He lunged forward, grabbing her by the lapels of the jacket. "You sonofabitch! You killed my father." 

 

Feldman blinked, surprised and then she realized what he was doing. Her fingers brushed his cheek and wandered down to his lips caressing them. "You should thank me for that, Mulder. The old bastard had it coming." 

 

"You're a murderer and a liar, Krycek." 

 

"You want me bad, Mulder." 

 

God, she really had been paying attention, hadn't she? He brought his lips down on hers. Hard. "Yeah, Krycek, and I'm going to have you and then I'm going to send your ass to jail." 

 

"Once you've had my ass, Mulder, jail's the last place you're going to want to send it." 

 

Oh. Yes.


	2. part 2

It tickled her cheek and worked its way down her neck. That's how Ellen knew she wasn't being woken up by Winky. She heaved a contented sigh and felt whatever-it-was trace its path between her breasts, down to her stomach - which was where she was too ticklish to take it any longer. "Cut it out, Ra - uh, Alyosha." 

 

"Good morning, kitten." 

 

Ellen opened her eyes. Did she really call him 'Alyosha'? Bleeaahhh. He was her Ratboy, not her Alyosha. Well, he'd gotten himself out of bed early. Freshly shaved and showered, mmm, he smelled good. Delicious. He was up to something. "Morning. 'Scuse me. Gotta go feed Winky." 

 

"I fed him." 

 

Yup. Definitely up to something. "What time is it?" 

 

"Almost eight." 

 

"What?! I have to be in the office---" 

 

"Take the day off. We have things to do." 

 

"I can't-" 

 

"Yes, you can." A series of kisses along her neck. 

 

Tough decision. Getting tougher by the second as he worked his way down. "I shouldn't." 

 

"Call in sick." 

 

Ellen sighed and mentally reviewed her calendar. There was a settlement meeting with an insurance company and a motion to be drafted. The insurance company already canceled this meeting once, which meant they would do it at least two more times. And the motion could wait. It wasn't due until next week. "I need to call Teresa and see if my meeting was canceled." 

 

With a grin, Krycek reached behind his back and handed her the phone. 

The creep! He had it hidden there all along. He was going to sweet talk her into calling her mother! What a conniving rat! Well, with any luck, the meeting was still on. She snatched the phone from his hand and dialed. How nice it was to hear Teresa answer the phone for a change. She asked for her messages and wouldn't you know it, they called at seven a.m. to cancel. Bastards. 

 

"Well?" 

 

"My calendar is now clear." She put the phone on the night stand. 

 

He lifted it from the night stand and laid it on her chest. "You have another phone call to make, kitten." 

 

"At eight in the morning? My father just left for work and my mother is having her first peaceful cup of coffee. You don't interrupt her during that coffee." 

 

Krycek's jaw clenched and then relaxed. "What time were you planning on calling her?" 

 

Oh, think fast. Fast. Hard without her first cup of coffee. "You know, I was thinking maybe I should introduce you to Audrey first and see how you handle meeting members of my family. She'll be here around eight tonight and maybe we could all go to dinner and---" 

 

"Feldman---" 

 

She struggled to think of a plausible reason why he had to meet Audrey first. Ah, yes. Perfect. "You have to meet Audrey first." 

 

"Why?" 

 

"Because after five years of hearing about how handsome, smart and rich Mark is, I want her to eat her heart out. You're much better-looking than Mark." Much. And then she hastily added, "And smarter. Much, much smarter." 

 

Krycek didn't look fully convinced. "I wasn't aware it was a competition." 

 

"Of course it's a competition! My mother's been hearing Aunt Sandra talk about her son-in-law the doctor for years. Okay, my mom can brag about her daughter the lawyer, but there's no son-in-law---" 

 

"Yet." 

 

She ignored him and continued. "And you know my mother wants be able to brag that her son-in-law makes more money than Mark---" 

 

"Why is this about money? What about making you happy?" 

 

"Don't ask me, ask my mother. So---" 

 

"So what you're saying is you want Audrey to be jealous." 

 

"Exactly." 

 

"I can arrange that." 

 

Uh-oh. Now she was worried. 

 

"Why are we stopping here?" 

 

"Because." Krycek grabbed Feldman's arm and steered her inside the jewelry store. It wasn't as though he hadn't been thinking about this for a while, either. In fact, he'd done his homework, knew that this particular jeweler specialized in quality estate pieces, just like Feldman wanted. "What kind of ring does Audrey have?" 

 

"Two carats, estate piece -" 

 

"Platinum. I should have guessed." He was beginning to think those were the first words the Feldman women learned to speak. 

 

Feldman backed up a step as she realized what he was about to do. "Forget it." 

 

"Can I help you?" The jeweler eyed the couple carefully, taking in Krycek's leather jacket with obvious distaste. 

 

"The lady would like to see something in a two carat or larger estate piece. D, E or F color with flawless to VVS1 quality. She's partial to a platinum setting. Any particular cut, princess?" 

 

"What?" 

 

Look at her! She was completely stunned. "Solitaire? Marquise?" 

 

"Ummm...." 

 

"I have several I can show you, sir." Looked like his knowledge was paying off. The clerk could smell the money already and was preparing to kiss some leather-clad ass for his commission. He opened the case and laid a velvet tray of rings on the counter. "My name is Stephen." 

 

"Thank you, Stephen." Alex draped his arm around Feldman's shoulder and guided her to the counter. "Pick one." 

 

"But I---" 

 

"Try this one, miss." Stephen indicated a solitaire. "Very traditional and elegant." 

 

"That doesn't look like two carats," Alex said. 

 

"It's one and a half." 

 

"Two carats, Stephen. The lady wants a rock." 

 

"Alex!" Feldman grabbed the front of his jacket and hung on for dear life. "Why are you doing this?" 

 

"You know why I'm doing it." At least he hoped she was smart enough to figure it out. She was going to tell him she loved him if it killed both of them. 

 

"You're crazy!" 

 

"Kitten, just pick a ring, will you?" He scanned the selection. Hmmm. That one was pretty, a nice round solitaire with a delicate scrollwork setting. "How about this one?" 

 

That got her attention. She looked down at the ring and he could swear she was salivating. 

 

"Try it on." 

 

"But -" 

 

"Excellent choice, sir. That piece is two and a quarter carats, D and near flawless." 

 

"But -" 

 

He lifted the ring from the tray and slid it onto her finger. "You like it?" 

 

"Yes, but---" 

 

"You want it?" 

 

"Well, I...." 

 

"Yes?" 

 

Two big, brown eyes stared up at him. Wow, was she ever in shock. "Are you doing this because you want to get married or because you want to make Audrey jealous?" 

 

"What do you think?" 

 

"I-I'm not sure." He could see a glimmer of her usual composure starting to return. "If you want me to marry you, you have to ask." 

 

Was she serious? Yes, she was and look at that ass-kisser, Stephen, eating this whole thing up. Like he didn't see this almost every day. "Marry me, Feldman?" 

 

"Why?" 

 

"What the hell do you mean, why?!" 

 

"You know exactly what I mean, Ratboy!" Feldman slid the ring off of her finger and handed it back to Stephen. "I have no idea how you feel about me---" 

 

"I'm asking you to marry me, goddammit!" 

 

"Why don't you just take me hostage again? It would be cheaper!" 

 

"Feldman!" 

 

"Krycek!" 

 

Calm. Try to stay calm. It wasn't working. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Just say yes so we can get the hell out of here." 

 

"Well, there's a persuasive reason!" 

 

"You know what I mean," he hissed. 

 

"No, I don't." 

 

He wanted to marry this? He had to be out of his mind. "Why can't you act like a girl for once?! Just once?! I'm making a real effort here, Feldman. I'm buying you the ring of your dreams. Can't you get all weepy and say, 'I love you, Alex?' Is that so hard to do?!" 

 

"Let me see if I understand this. You want me to ruin my eye make-up because---" 

 

"Who gives a damn about your eye-make-up?! I want you to tell me you love me! You didn't have any trouble telling Mulder---" 

 

"Mulder? Why don't you ask him to marry you, Ratboy!?" 

 

"You pissy, little bitch!" 

 

"Jerk!" 

 

"Marry me, goddammit!" 

 

"No!" Feldman turned on her heel and stormed out of the store. 

 

Why? Why him? Why did he do these things to himself? Oh, that's right. He loved the little bitch. Sighing, he turned to Stephen. "Wrap it up." 

 

"B-but she just said no." The clerk still had his finger on the alarm button. 

 

"PMS, Stephen. Just PMS. She'll say yes in a couple of days." Krycek rubbed his eyes. "And while we're at it, do you have nice pair of matching earrings?" 

 

Marita Covarrubias was not happy. Why should she be? Not only did she just spend two months -two! - in a coma, but her roots grew out and wouldn't you just know that L'Oreal stopped making her shade of Ice Queen Blonde? And then there was the little matter of being used as a lab rat by her former employers. Okay, it was arguable that she had it coming for trying to screw them over, but she also screwed over (not to mention screwed madly) Alex Krycek and you'd think they'd have taken that into consideration. But they didn't. In fact, they were downright nasty about the whole thing. 

 

It was enough to give a girl a complex. 

 

Escaping from the hospital had been no easy feat, especially since she wasn't exactly a blonde any more, her nail polish was a memory and she'd fallen into the nasty habit of cursing Alex Krycek in every tongue she could think of whenever the mood struck her. And why not? The smoker, that bastard - and she cursed him, too - dropped by to tell her she was out and Krycek was back in. 

 

Back in, after everything he pulled! And all she did was kidnap that kid. One lousy mistake and she's out. That had to be Krycek's doing, the vindictive one-armed bastard. He was going to pay. Big time. First, she was going to find him, then she was going to find out what he held most dear and then she would destroy whatever that was in front of him. And only after she broke him would she let him die. 

 

An evil, slightly demented giggle escaped her Revlon-coated lips. Yes, Krycek was going to pay, dearly. But first, she was going to play with him. No sense in wasting all that talent. And then they'd see who was out and who was in. Yes, indeed. 

 

"Where have you been, Ellen Janine Feldman? I've been waiting almost an hour!" 

 

Ellen winced at the voice coming from the Infinity Q45 parked in the driveway. At least she had a driveway. Three weeks ago, she still lived over a bodega. Thanks to her new job with the smoker, she was able to afford this neat new townhouse apartment. "Audrey. You're early." 

 

"I hope you don't mind, darling, but when I found out there was going to be a singles event tonight, I came as quickly as I could." Audrey slipped out of the luxury car and smoothed her overaccessorized, overdone, overpriced ensemble. Ellen knew instinctively that Audrey bought it at Loehmann's. 

 

"Audrey, no -" 

 

"Yes! You're almost thirty and where's your Mister Right?" Audrey followed Ellen into the apartment, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly at the lack of furniture. 

 

Not a Jewish Singles event. Anything but those. Horrible, ugly balding nerd-men. Who cared how well paid they were, they were nothing like her Ratboy. Unfortunately, her Ratboy was probably furious with her for not accepting his marriage proposal. Well, really, what did he expect? She sighed. "Can't we just blow it off and have dinner somewhere?" 

 

"Blow it off? This is why you're alone! You need to go to these things and meet a doctor or a lawyer or -" 

 

"Or a one-armed bisexual professional killer working with a multinational conspiracy to cover-up the existence of extraterrestrials," Ellen said, wistfully. 

 

"You definitely need to meet a nice, Jewish man." Audrey inspected her manicure, found it lacking and rummaged in her purse for a file. "Okay, let's pick a dress. You have less than an hour to make yourself beautiful and Ellen, you're going to need every second." 

 

Was she just insulted? It certainly seemed like it. "Why don't you tell me about your third boob job again, Audrey?" 

 

"Of course, darling...." 

 

It was going to be a long night. 

 

Krycek clenched the shopping bag handle in his teeth, turned the key in his lock and prayed Feldman wasn't in there waiting for him. All he wanted was to drink these two bottles of Stoli in peace and not think about her for at least six hours. 

 

"Alex." 

 

"Sonofa---" The bag slipped from his mouth, but he caught it before it fell and used his prosthesis to switch on the light. There. On the couch. That wasn't Feldman. That was... "Marita?" 

 

"Back from the dead, lover." Cold blue eyes stared at him beneath heavily-mascaraed lashes. Her pale blonde hair was several shades off, but as immobile as ever. As always, she was fashionably dressed in a tasteful grey sweater, black slacks and minimal jewelry. Why the hell did he care what she was wearing? Must be Feldman's influence. "Nice place you have here." 

 

Just what he needed. Ignoring her, he reached into the bag, grabbed a bottle of Stoli, opened it and took a healthy swig. Ahhh. Better. Much better. "What do you want?" 

 

"You." A maniacal laugh escaped her lips as she curled seductively on the sofa. 

 

Oh. Crud. She'd gone around the bend completely. And wasn't she supposed to be in a lab somewhere? Under heavy sedation and armed guards? "That's very flattering, honey, but---" 

 

"No 'buts', Alex. You've put me off for far too long," Marita hissed, getting to her feet. "This is where you pay the piper, you self-dealing low-life." 

 

"Me, self-dealing? Me? You show up, use me and then steal the kid -" 

 

"Who you conveniently forgot to tell me was infected -" 

 

"Because I didn't expect you to screw me over---" 

 

"I sure as hell should have expected it from you, Alex." A small, deadly-looking gun was pulled from under her sweater, from the waistband of those tasteful slacks. "You left me for dead and told them to experiment on me. On me!! But then as I recall, you get off on watching other people being used as lab rats." 

 

Having a gun held on him by a pissed-off Marita didn't have the same effect as having a gun pointed at him by Feldman. Marita, unlike Feldman, would kill him without a second thought. "Marita, honey -" 

 

"Don't 'honey' me, you bastard. I know all about how you connived your way back into favor at my expense---" 

 

Krycek hurled the bottle of vodka at her. 

 

Marita ducked just in time but was too distracted to notice Alex lunging for her. They landed on his carpet with a thud. Her gun skidded across the floor. 

 

The carpet, he thought, dully. Did Stainmaster work on vodka? Why was he worrying about that now, when Marita was trying to gouge out his right eye? If Feldman were here, he'd be getting a lecture about hitting women, but Marita didn't qualify as a woman. 

 

He wrapped his prosthetic fingers around her throat and squeezed. 

Marita's knee slammed into his crotch. 

 

Krycek howled in agony. 

 

She pushed him off, gasping for air. A small, blue velvet box fell out of his jacket. Marita coughed and picked it up. "Nice ring. Let's read the inscription, shall we? Alex and Ellen? Ellen? Who's Ellen?" 

 

Through his pain, Alex fumbled for the gun. 

 

Marita kicked it out of his reach and dropped the box on his chest. "I'm going to find this Ellen and kill her, Alex. Then I'm going to kill you." 

 

"No..." 

 

"Yes. Das vidanya, tovarisch." 

 

Shit. He needed to find Feldman.


	3. part 3

Ellen's skin was crawling. Absolutely crawling. How could she have let Audrey talk her into doing this? Into wearing this dress? Her Ratboy bought her this dress in London - a tight, black, low cut spandex dress that looked like it was spray-painted on. Didn't he have the right to see her wear it first? And her shoes. Three inch spikes. Her Ratboy would have loved to see this. And she wished he was there to rip it off of her. Maybe she could ditch Audrey and go to his place. He'd see the dress. They'd have sex. They'd work things out. She could explain why getting married wasn't a good idea. Of course, she had to figure that one out herself before she could explain it to him. 

 

"Excuse me." 

 

The voice came from behind her. Ellen turned slowly. Where was Audrey? Oh, there she was. Dancing with that balding obstetrician. "What?" 

 

"That's a lovely dress." 

 

Her first thought was that he looked like a poodle. It was the curly hair and those slitty little eyes that did it. And that unbelievable stick-up-his-ass posture. "Gee, thanks." 

 

"Jeffrey Spender." 

 

Jeffrey. The name alone spoke volumes. It was the name of a spoiled, whiny brat. "Ellen Feldman." 

 

He fished in his suit and retrieved a small leather case. That's when Ellen noticed the badge. FBI. Oh. Lord. Couldn't she ever get away from these guys? A cheap business card was pressed into her palm and he gave her a weak smile that made her long for one of those underwear-soaking Ratboy leers. 

 

Ellen's nose wrinkled slightly as she read the card. Special Agent Jeffrey Spender. Hmmph. With a flourish, she produced the Louis Vuitton card case her Ratboy gave her and handed Spender one of the thick, expensive cards her Ratboy had specially made for her. Oh shit. Why did she do that? Now he could find her! Damn her competitiveness to hell. 

Spender glanced at it, tucked it into his shirt pocket and nodded as though an actual conversation had taken place. "Care to dance?" 

 

"No." 

 

"Dance with him, Ellen. For Gawd's sake, he's a good-looking man." 

 

Audrey's nasal bleat rose about Donna Summer singing about hot stuff. "I'm Ellen's cousin, Audrey. Let me tell you, Ellen's a genius. She's a sole practitioner and---" 

 

"Audrey, shut up!" Maybe she shouldn't have been that rude about it. Ah, who cared. "I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me." 

 

Ellen ran for the safety of the bathroom. What was she doing? Why was she here? She wanted her Ratboy. Her....Alex. Maybe if she relented on that one tiny detail, he'd give up on the marriage thing for a while. There was a pay phone just outside the bathroom. If she called, would he come get her? Ellen fished a quarter out of her purse and stepped outside. 

 

"Hi. Your cousin left early. Something about being tired from her pregnancy. She asked if I wouldn't mind driving you home." 

 

Poodle-boy. Audrey was trying to set her up with Poodle-boy. Ellen could feel her nose wrinkling again. She licked her lips and faked a smile at him. "You know, that sounds like a wonderful idea...uh, Jeffrey, was it? Why don't you take me home right now, tiger?" 

 

"Now?" 

 

"Yeah." Bambi eyes and he was putty in her hands. "Why don't you go get your car and I'll meet you out front?" 

 

"Okay." 

 

God, he was stupid. Her Ratboy would never fall for that trick. Ratboy. Yeah, she would let him sulk tonight, but tomorrow morning, he was going to meet Audrey. Ellen counted to three and hurried towards the bus stop. And if she found a cab on the way, so much the better. 

 

"Audrey?" 

 

That was funny. The door was unlocked and the lights were on. Audrey knew better than to leave the door unlocked. Unless all that Jersey pollution did something to her common sense. Then again, this was Audrey. Common sense didn't apply to somebody who was consumed with living the perfect life - the perfect husband, the perfect house, perfect hair. Audrey did what was expected of her. 

 

"Meow!" 

 

"Hi, Winky. Where's your Aunt Audrey?" Ellen plucked the small can of mace from her purse. Unlocked door, no Audrey to greet her... Was she going to take any chances? No way. She had to have learned something after being kidnapped all those times by her Ratboy. "Ratboy?" 

 

No answer. 

 

"Alex? Audrey?" 

 

Winky mewed again. Louder this time. 

 

"What's the matter?" Okay, so what if he was a cat? He had his Lassie-like moments. Like the time he found her missing earring under the dresser. "Where's Aunt Audrey?" 

 

Winky trotted into the kitchen. 

 

Ellen followed him, her mace held at ready. The kitchen was a mess. Glass from the shattered window was everywhere. Okay, so that's how whoever it was got in. Winky's cat food was all over the kitchen. The table had been overturned. Audrey's Dooney & Bourke purse was on the floor, its contents strewn among the glass and cat food. 

 

"Audrey! Ratboy! Ratboy, this had better be a joke!" 

 

There...on the counter. Was that...could it be? Blood? Ellen moved closer to see. A couple of blonde hairs were stuck in the blood. Evidence. Audrey wasn't a blonde. Should she touch -- No. She needed a professional. She needed her Ratboy. 

 

Ellen reached for the phone. It was dead. 

 

There was only one thing left to do. 

 

The smoker settled back in his chair and sipped his scotch. Perhaps he shouldn't have taken a day off, but at his age and with his status, why not? The Project could get along without him for a day. Couldn't it? 

He reached for the VCR remote control and hit the play button. Clint Eastwood and Lee Van Cleef squared off. God, he loved this movie. 

 

Bang! Bang! 

 

Who would be thumping at his door on a Friday night? Sighing, the smoker got out of the chair and looked out the window. No. Not Feldman. Wearing some sort of painted-on black dress and toting a cat carrier. Not on his first day off in years, well, not including the vacation he had after they tried to kill him. He should never have shown her where he lived. 

 

"Feldman?" 

 

The small woman's chin quivered slightly. "Sir...." 

 

"Where is Alex?" 

 

"I don't know. He won't answer his phone. I guess it's because I wouldn't marry him -" 

 

"Feldman, you cannot come to me if you're having some sort of domestic dispute -" 

 

"I'm not, sir---" 

 

"Nor should you be. I will not tolerate you distracting one of my best operatives in that manner---" 

 

"Sir, Audrey is MISSING!" Feldman set the carrier down and clutched at the front of his shirt, twisting it tightly. "You've got to find Audrey." 

 

He didn't have to do anything, but in the context of that phone call he'd gotten from Krycek earlier about Covarrubias, he supposed he should find out what Feldman was trying to say. "Who is Audrey, Ellen?" 

 

"My cousin, sir. She was staying with me and she went back to my place because she wanted me to hook up with Poodle-boy and when I got back home she was missing." Feldman fumbled in her purse and produced a small Zip-Lock bag. "I've got some evidence. I knew you'd be upset if I called the cops---" 

 

"You are correct." He took the baggie and frowned. Blonde hair. Covarrubias. "Feldman. Take your cat. Let's go back to your apartment. I'll arrange for a team to come investigate and we will find your cousin. Is that satisfactory?" 

 

Big brown eyes stared up at him. "Really?" 

 

Between that dress and that stare, she was a deadly little concoction. No wonder Krycek was so distracted. Feldman was going to have to be curbed before Krycek was all but useless. "Yes, Ellen. Really." 

 

She embraced him. "Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you!" 

 

"Feldman! Get off of me!" Why? Why him? 

 

It was going to be a long night. 

 

Ellen clutched the cat carrier and watched the four agents going through her kitchen. The smoker was sitting on one of her kitchen chairs, smoking peacefully, watching the front door. What was he waiting for? 

 

A key rattled in the lock and her Ratboy walked in. He saw the smoker and stopped in his tracks. "Sir? What are you doing here?" 

 

"Ellen's cousin is missing. We assume she was taken by Covarrubias." 

The smoker took a long drag and focused his gaze on Ellen. "Ellen wisely came to me for help instead of calling the police." 

 

"She what?!" Krycek's eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. 

 

"She came to me for help." 

 

Uh-oh. The smoker was going to tell her Ratboy about her part-time job. No way she could have that. Ratboy would hit the roof. Time to change the subject. "Alex, who's this Covarrubias guy?" 

 

"Marita Covarrubias is a woman," the smoker put in. "Leave this to the professionals, Ellen." 

 

"Marita? Your ex-girlfriend Marita?!" Ellen stared up at her Ratboy in disbelief. "Has she been mowing my lawn?" 

 

"She wasn't my girlfriend, Feldman," Krycek hissed. "And I'm still waiting to hear about why you went to him for help instead of me." 

 

"Your phone was out of service." 

 

"And?" 

 

"And I went to him for help." 

 

"How did you know where to find him?" 

 

"Forget that, Alex. Audrey -" 

 

"The hell with her, Feldman. I want to know about you." 

 

"The hell with my cousin?!" Ellen shoved him. Hard. And succeeded in pushing him back a step. "The hell with Audrey? You're the one who wanted to meet my family, Ratboy! Rescue Audrey and you'll get your chance." 

 

"Don't push me, Feldman. I wouldn't push you." 

 

"Then don't just stand there -" 

 

"He's waiting for his orders, Ellen," the smoker said, crushing his cigarette. "You should also be waiting for your orders." 

 

"Orders? He has to go find Audrey!" 

 

"Are you assigning him that task, Ellen? Or would you rather he protects you? Surely you realize, Covarrubias came here for you." 

 

"Assign me? Since when does Feldman assign me work," Krycek demanded. 

 

"You haven't told him," the smoker clucked. Ellen could feel her blood pressure increasing by the second. "Alex, take Ellen somewhere safe. She's too valuable to lose to Covarrubias." 

 

"Isn't anybody going to look for my cousin?!" When would they learn to get their priorities straight!? Ellen's nose wrinkled as she looked from the smoker to Alex and back again. Both were staring right back at her. "Hello? Anybody home?" 

 

"Your cousin will be found, Ellen -" 

 

"Yeah, by me, obviously. As usual it's up to me to save the day." With that, she stomped out the door, giving it a satisfying slam as she left. 

 

Alex watched the door slam and looked back at the smoker. Winky paced in his cat carrier and mewed pitifully. What a day. She turns him down when he proposes, Covarrubias tries to kill him and kidnaps Feldman's cousin and he finds out Feldman is working for the smoker. Was there anything else that could happen? Did he really want to know? "She really assigns my cases?" 

 

"She pre-approves them, actually. We make the decisions to assign them together." The smoker lit a fresh cigarette and took a long drag. "Haven't you wondered about the caliber of your recent assignments?" 

 

Of course he wondered. For the past month, he'd done nothing except simple courier jobs. And nothing that took him further than New York. It was starting to frustrate the living hell out of him. Now he knew why. "When?" 

 

"When did Ellen join us? Unofficially, four years ago. She was placed on the payroll a little over three weeks ago." Another deep drag. 

"Alex, might I suggest going after her now? I know she doesn't have a car and heaven knows she won't get far in those shoes, but you know how much trouble she can get into." 

 

"Sir, I---" 

 

"Go after her, Alex." 

 

"Yes, sir." Alex Krycek was a good soldier who followed his orders. And his orders were to find and protect Feldman. It was going to be a long night. 

 

There was a difference between walking a block in tennis shoes and walking a block in three inch spikes. Ellen's calves were starting to ache something fierce and she had a good long walk ahead of her until she got to her office. Plenty of time to figure out how to find Audrey. And plenty of time to figure out how to explain her part-time job with the smoker to her Ratboy. 

 

It wasn't as if Ratboy didn't have some explaining to do himself, she sniffed. At least her ex-boyfriends didn't show up and start kidnapping people. Every person her Ratboy had any kind of relationship with wanted to kill him. Kurt. Conrad. And now this Marita chick. Was she going to want to kill him, too? God knew, that stunt with the ring this afternoon was enough to make her want to kill him. Well, she'd worry about that later. Right now, she had to find Marita and all she knew about Marita was her last name and that she used really cheap hair dye. 

Maybe it would be enough. She had her own network of informants. Well, three anyway. Maybe they didn't know anything about aliens or conspiracies, but they knew how to find information. And they all owed her legal fees. 

 

Where the hell was she going? Krycek leaned back in the driver's seat and watched Feldman limping through the dark, lonely streets. She certainly wasn't going home to change her shoes. That would make sense. Feldman never made sense. Was she going to her office? At this time of night? Dressed like that? Was she out of her mind? 

 

Did he really need an answer to that question? 

 

With a sigh, he continued to cruise down the street. Of course she didn't notice him following her. What an amateur. After all the times he kidnapped her, he would have thought she'd be a little more alert. Especially if she was going to prance around the streets of downtown DC in a skin-tight little black dress and spiked heels. He was tempted to throw her in the trunk right now and teach her a lesson. On the other hand, he could also let her learn her lesson the hard way, as long as he was here to cover her ass from any real damage. What had the smoker been thinking when he recruited Feldman? Did Feldman have any idea how lucky she was the smoker wasn't furious with her for her temper tantrum? 

 

They were going to have A Very Long Talk tonight. 

 

"Shut up, damn you!" 

 

"Look, lady, I don't know who are, but let me tell you who my husband is---" 

 

"I told you to shut up! One more word out of you and I'm taping your lips shut!" 

 

"Oy! You'll ruin my collagen implants!" 

 

Marita's nails dug into the steering wheel. This was what Alex wanted to marry? This...JAP? There wasn't one real body part left on the woman. And what a whiner! At least the two of them had world domination in common. What could Alex possibly have in common with this? Finding Ellen Feldman was easier than she expected. This Feldman woman had quite a reputation as a pain in the ass. Judging by her big mouth, it was deserved. 

 

"Are those real?" 

 

"What?!" 

 

"Your breasts. Very nice work, if they aren't. Who was the surgeon?" 

 

"That's none of your business, bitch," Marita hissed. 

 

"I just thought I'd point out that they aren't even. You might want to consult my husband and---" 

 

"When did you and Alex get married, Feldman?" Her sources didn't tell her that little tidbit. They told her Feldman was Alex's toy. 

 

"Feldman? I'm not Feldman. I'm her cousin, Audrey. Who's Alex? Is that her boyfriend? That's not a Jewish name. Her mother is going to be so disappointed," Audrey clucked. "Are you a friend of hers?" 

 

"Do I look like I'm a friend of hers?!" It took every ounce of self-control not to pound her head against the steering wheel. Feldman's cousin? That meant the Feldman bitch was still out there and Alex was laughing at her. Alex. Was. Laughing. 

 

Marita let loose with a string of curses in Greek. 

 

"Such language! How will you ever find a husband with a mouth like that?" 

 

"SHUT UP!" 

 

It was going to be a long night. Especially since her plan wasn't working out the way she expected. 

 

"Mommy!" 

 

Ellen rolled her eyes. "Don't call me that, Eddie." 

 

Eddie flashed her a killer smile complete with a gold tooth while he checked out the tight black dress. Ellen felt her skin crawl. "You look good, mommy." 

 

"Eddie." Three snitches and this was the only one she could find on a Friday night who thought he might be able to help. It figured. 

 

"Sorry, Feldman. I like to call the pretty women 'mommy'." 

 

Okay. It was a compliment. A half-assed compliment, coming from a snitch who hadn't paid a legal fee since she met him two years ago. So what if he was vermin? He was going to help her find Marita. "Okay, Eddie, you dragged me all the way here, I want my answer." 

 

Eddie flexed a poorly developed bicep. "I'm waiting for a phone call. In the meantime, how about we dance?" 

 

"To what?" 

 

"Got a dollar? I'll put some music on the juke." 

 

"Eddie." She was willing to bet her Ratboy never had to put up with crap like this. But did her Ratboy offer to help her find Audrey? Of course not, so now she had to dance with Eddie. Ewwww. 

 

"Just kidding, babe." He fished a dollar out of his jeans and walked over to the machine. 

 

Ellen supposed the swagger was for her benefit, so she could check out his ass. It wasn't in the same league as Ratboy's. But then, was anybody's? She took another sip of her Corona and winced. God, this stuff was awful. Worse than her Ratboy's vodka, even. No, she told herself. Don't worry about Ratboy now. Audrey was in trouble. Oh. Lord. Was that disco? Was it...Donna Summer singing 'Love to Love You, Baby'? Oh, yes. And Eddie looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. 

"Let's dance, mommy." 

 

What the hell was Feldman doing now? Dancing? With that shrimpy guy with the bad haircut? Nothing she did made sense and he supposed that meant he shouldn't be surprised when she did something this off-the-wall. Feldman was never, ever predictable. And if she intended to survive working for the smoker, she was going to have to learn to play by the rules or she was going to get dead real fast. 

 

Of course, Feldman almost got killed on her way to her office. Not that she noticed the two street punks following her with rape on their puny, drug-addled minds. She didn't notice the purse snatcher either until he made off with her bag. Okay, so she wouldn't have heard Alex when he shot the kid in the knee because he used a silencer, but she could have at least bothered to chase the kid on principle. 

 

After a half hour in her office, Feldman came here. The Aztec Lounge. A dive bar in a decidedly bad part of town. She had to be out of her mind coming here by herself. And he still had no idea what she was doing. Maybe he should have stopped her when she got to her office. But then again, maybe he should let her fall on her ass playing a game that was way out of her league. She needed to learn that she wasn't equipped to handle certain things and catching Marita Covarrubias was one of them. He'd know when to put an end to Feldman's shenanigans tonight. 

 

Speaking of shenanigans, where had she been tonight dressed like that? Krycek rummaged in her purse for the answer. No mace. Which meant she had it on her. He hoped. What was this? A ticket for the Camp-Find-A-Mate singles dance at the Jewish Y? She turned down his marriage proposal and started looking for a nice, Jewish guy all in the same day? That figured. He continued to rummage. What now? A business card with a phone number scrawled on the back. With a scowl, Krycek flipped the card over and his teeth clenched when he saw the name on the card. 

Special Agent Jeffrey Spender. 

 

Spender. 

 

And Feldman. 

 

Over his dead body. Over Spender's dead body. 

 

His teeth ground together as he watched the shrimp try to grab Feldman's ass. Feldman shoved the shrimp and looked like she was threatening to mash him through a sewer grating. Good. Nobody manhandled his Feldman. Nobody. 

 

Now what? The shrimp was answering his cell phone. Was there anybody on the planet who didn't have one of those damned things? Now he was talking to Feldman and judging from his gestures, he was giving her directions. 

 

Krycek slunk down in the seat as Feldman walked out of the bar. Now where the hell was she going? And why didn't she at least look over her shoulder? Easy enough to tail her, but the runt needed to learn his lesson about keeping his slimy paws off of Feldman. 

 

He got out of the car, walked into the Aztec Lounge and tapped the runt on the shoulder. "Excuse me." 

 

The runt looked up at him. "Yo! Papi!" 

 

"Don't call me 'papi'." 

 

"I call all the good looking men 'papi'." A toothy, golden smile. "What can I do you for, handsome?" 

 

He ought to crush this runt on general principle, not to mention grabbing Feldman's ass. "Where did you send the girl?" 

 

"What girl?" 

 

"Don't play with me, hermano, I don't have the time or the patience," Krycek hissed. Yeah, kicking the midget's butt was worth a minute of his time. "You gave Feldman directions. Where did you send her?" 

 

The runt drew up to his full height. Alex was not impressed by the scrawny five-foot-four man. He'd seen tougher looking cockroaches. "Got no idea what you're talking about, chico." 

 

"Have it your way." One punch, not even a hard one and the runt flew across the room. And nobody even glanced in their direction. "I don't see anybody rushing to save your sorry ass, friend. They must not like you much. You some kind of snitch?" 

 

"P-please man, don't hit me again." The runt sniffled and Krycek saw that the gold tooth was missing. Lucky punch or bad dental work or a combination of the two. 

 

"Where did you send Feldman?" 

 

"The Slaughtered Lamb." Another sniffle. "She's meeting a guy named Andrei an' she's looking for a chick named Marita Cova... Covaruby or somethin' like that." 

 

"If she comes to you for information again, you tell her you can't help her, understand?" That would keep Feldman alive. And the runt. Not that he cared about the runt, but if the runt asked the wrong questions and they traced him, the runt would give up Feldman in a heartbeat. "And if I ever catch you grabbing her ass again, I'll break both your hands."


	4. part 4

"You must be Feldman." 

 

Ellen swallowed as her eyes swept over the solid wall of muscle in front of her. "Andrei?" 

 

"Da. Come. Sit. Drink." Andrei grabbed her by the wrist, steered her to a table and pulled her onto his lap. 

 

Ewwww. He smelled. Bad. Ellen tried to wriggle free, but Andrei's grip on her wrist grew tighter. "Um, Andrei, would you mind letting go?" 

 

"You want information," he said in a heavily accented voice, "you sit with Andrei. In fact, you squirm some more. I like that." 

 

Ewwwww!!! She winced as a bottle of vodka was thrust under her nose. 

 

"Drink." 

 

"Not when I'm working." First the Corona and now this. It didn't smell like Stoli. It smelled like something you used to take paint off a car. 

 

"Drink!" 

 

Maybe just a sip, to show she was serious. Cautiously, she raised the bottle, took the tiniest sip and began choking as the stuff burned its way down her throat. 

 

Andrei found this amusing, naturally. He took the bottle from her and helped himself to a long, healthy swig. 

 

"Andrei?" 

 

"Yes, moi krasivya shalava?" 

 

There it was. Her Ratboy's pet name for her. Here was her big chance to find out what it meant. Every time she asked Ratboy, he'd just smile enigmatically. "What does that mean, Andrei?" 

 

"It means..." Another long drink. "My beautiful little slut. And you are such a beautiful little slut, aren't you?" 

 

Ratboy was going to die. Andrei was going to die. But first she needed information. "Not as big a slut as Marita Covarrubias, huh?" 

 

Apparently, that was a poor choice of words. Andrei jumped to his feet, dropping Ellen on her ass. He let loose with a string of curses in Russian, some of which she recognized, and grabbed her by the hair. 

"Let go!" She tried to use her three inch spikes to defend herself, but Andrei tossed her over his shoulder. Ewww. Gross. Her face was about four inches from his butt! Ewww. And he was carrying her. Where was he carrying her? Outside. Oh, God, he was going to kill her. 

 

"Lemme goooooooooooo!" 

 

Andrei cackled. 

 

And then she was airborne. 

 

Thwump. 

 

It smelled. It was dark and it smelled. 

 

Oh God. He threw her in a dumpster. 

 

A tall dumpster. How the hell was she going to get out of here? 

 

Krycek sighed and got out of the car. Tempting to leave her there, but this was the opportunity he'd been waiting for all night. Her Sam Spade routine had gone far enough. And with her in a dumpster, she'd have no place to run when he started asking the tough questions. 

 

Stealthily, he approached the dumpster and listened. 

 

"....gotta get outta here...stinks to high heaven...." 

 

The rustling had to be garbage bags. Was she trying to pile them up so she could climb out? 

 

Whump. A string of whimpers and curses. 

 

Yup. Feldman just learned that you can't stack plastic garbage bags. Lesson number one for tonight. Suppressing a grin, he peered over the side at the agitated lawyer who was now trying to jump up and grab hold of the side. "Find your cousin yet?" 

 

"Ratboy?" 

 

"Where?" He looked over his shoulder. It was time for Feldman to learn to call him Alex, like she used to when they first met. "I don't see anybody else here. My name is Alex." 

 

"Alex," she shrieked. "Get me out of here!" 

 

Better. Much better. And since she said his name so prettily, he'd use hers. "Hello, Ellen. In a bit of trouble, are you?" 

 

"Get me out of here!" 

 

"I thought you didn't need anybody's help." 

 

"Alexander!!!!" 

 

"Ellen Janine Feldman." This was going to be good. He leaned against the dumpster as if they were having a casual conversation in a café, instead of an alley that reeked of rotting food and urine. "The time has come, the Ratboy said, for us to speak of many things. Of engagement rings, and cigarettes, of Jewish American Princesses and kings. Pick where you want to start." 

 

"Alexander Krycek, get me out of here this instant!" 

 

"Alexander Nikolai Krycek," he corrected. "Let's start with your new career, kitten. When did you start working for him and what exactly is it that you do for him?" 

 

"Nikolai?" 

 

"My parents were Cold War immigrants, Janine. Now answer the question before I leave you in there." 

 

Feldman bit her lip and blinked up at him. Ah yes, the doe-eyes routine. Must've worked like a charm on Mulder. Too bad Alex Krycek was immune to its effects. 

 

"You have five seconds before I close the lid on you." His fingers brushed the lid as he smiled sweetly at her. "Five, four, three, two---" 

 

"Three weeks!" 

 

"Three weeks what?" 

 

"I've been working for him three weeks." She was still making the doe-eyes. "Oh, but, Alex, it's only a part-time job---" 

 

"Pre-approving my cases is a part-time job? Feldman..." He stopped himself, sighed, and started again. "What else do you do for him, Ellen? Do you service him, too?" 

 

"Ewwww! Of course not!" 

 

Whew. As relieved as he was, he forced himself to stay angry, to scare her as much as he could, because it was obvious she had no idea what she'd gotten herself into. "Why, Ellen? That's what I want to know. Why did you go looking for him?" 

 

"I didn't!" An indignant stamp of a spiked heel echoed in the extra-large dumpster. "He came to me." 

 

"Why would he come to you, Ellen?" 

 

"Strughold had you, Alex. The smoker came to me and told me I had to rescue you. And I did." 

 

She also sank the Fire Island ferry in the process. That, of course, was besides the point. If what she was saying was true, the smoker was going to pay for dragging her into the business. Eventually. "You didn't go to him and ask him where I was?" 

 

"How could I," Feldman snapped. "You think he's listed in the Yellow Pages under 'conspiracies'? I'm telling you, he showed up at my apartment and told me to go get you. I asked why he wasn't sending anybody else and he said it's because I would've gotten involved eventually. Which is true, I guess, so I agreed and he helped me come up with a cover story so I could con Mulder into helping me, which was a complete waste, in my opinion. Mulder was almost totally useless and---" 

"I get the point." Score one for the smoker. He wondered how Strughold knew about the plot to kill him. Was the whole thing a test to see what Feldman could do? God, he hoped not. "So you agreed to work for him if I worked for you, is that it?" 

 

"I was doing it to protect you!" 

 

"I don't need your protection, Feldman." 

 

"The hell you don't! You're not detail-oriented enough!" 

 

"What?!" 

 

"Those FEMA worker files. You didn't analyze them. If you did, you'd have seen the third job was a set-up. The Strughold job....the smoker let me read that one..." Bags rustled in the dumpster as Feldman stomped on a cockroach. She glared up at him with a defiant expression on her dirty little face. It would have been intimidating if she didn't have lettuce in her hair. "If you'd done some homework, Alex, some basic stuff, you'd have found there's a half million bounty on Strughold. The Russians want his ass for war crimes he committed during World War II when he was known as the Butcher of Sobibor. You could have made a hell of a deal, maybe even saved yourself. I think the smoker knew it all along, but he wanted to see if you'd figure it out and you missed it because you didn't think to look." 

 

It kept coming back to the smoker and Strughold. What an elaborate dance that was turning out to be and Feldman was right in the center of it. Could he blame Feldman? Should he? If she turned the smoker down, one or both of them would be dead right now. "Okay, Feldman, we might be able to work out a deal. Partners. Not me reporting to you. You think you can handle the demotion?" 

 

"Did you see that article on page 16 of the Times yesterday? The one about the guy with the weird infection in Tunisia? I rejected that assignment for you because they didn't give me enough information about the facility you were supposed to take out." 

 

"I get the point, Feldman. But I'm not going to sit around delivering papers and chauffeuring the smoker from place to place because you don't like the idea of me doing my job, understand?" 

 

"But, Alex---" 

 

"No 'buts'. This is what I do. What I'm good at." 

 

"But it's dangerous!" 

 

Nice to know she loved him, even if she'd die before she said it. 

 

"Alex? Are you there?" 

 

He peeked back in the dumpster. They covered career choices. Now it was time to attack the larger subject. The more dangerous one. Love. "We're not finished yet." 

 

"Alex...please let me out..." 

 

"I don't think so. Maybe you ought to call Jeffrey Spender." 

 

"Who?" 

 

"Special Agent Spender? You met him at the Jewish Singles Dance." 

 

"Poodle-boy? Ewwwww!" 

 

Poodle-boy. So, Feldman wasn't actively trying to replace him. That was good. Very good. "He's Jewish, has a nice job, your mother would love him." 

 

"That's not fair -" 

 

"Maybe he'll buy you a two carat estate piece, but on his salary, I doubt it. You'll probably get something from Service Merchandise---" 

 

"Oh, Alex!" 

 

Listen to that whine. Was she beginning to understand how she hurt his feelings today? 

 

"I don't wanna marry Poodle-boy!" 

 

"You don't want to marry me, either." 

 

"I don't want to marry anybody! I'm not ready to get married." 

 

Now there was an interesting revelation. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?" 

 

"Because it was so...it was...flattering." One small hand clawed at the top of the dumpster. "Nobody's ever asked me before." 

 

"You said no." 

 

"Because it's too soon!" 

 

"It's been four years!" 

 

There was a muffled crash as she fell again. He peered over the side and watched her scramble to her feet. "No, it hasn't. You were gone for two of those. And the first two...well, we weren't dating, that's for sure." 

 

"We had something, Ellen. Are you going to deny that?" This was why he hated arguing with a lawyer. They had to dissect every single sentence, twist the meaning... 

 

"We had some kind of sick dynamic where you kept taking me hostage every time you wanted to see me." 

 

"If I called you and asked for a date, you would have said no." 

 

"Because you kidnapped me, wrecked my apartment and tried to rape me!" 

 

"So why the hell are you with me now? You've been free to leave for months." Say it. Say it! SAY IT! Three little words.... 

 

"I don't know." 

 

Wrong words. He was so furious that he slammed the lid of the dumpster shut and stalked down the alley. 

 

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeex!" 

 

Krycek scowled at the dumpster and decided to let her stew for two minutes. He looked down at his watch, counting the number of screams. Two minutes and fifteen shrieks later, he lifted the lid and peered inside. 

 

A panting, crying lawyer stared back up at him. 

 

Crying? Feldman never cried. Then again, most women cried when they were angry and frustrated. He remembered reading that somewhere. The tears were mostly adrenaline. "Did you figure out why you're with me yet?" 

 

"I...I...." And then she erupted into a series of hiccups. 

 

Christ. Maybe she shouldn't act like a girl. "Is it because I buy you things? Is it the sex?" 

 

Feldman hiccupped noisily. 

 

"Because if that's all it is, I can keep you as a pet, Ellen. Put you up somewhere nice, call you when I want you and---" 

 

"And I can be your beautiful little slut, you rotten sonofabitch!?" 

 

So much for his little secret pet name. "Don't be so offended, kitten. You called me Ratboy, I called you moi krasivya shalava. Want to cut a deal?" 

 

Another series of hiccups. "You really think I'm beautiful?" 

 

"What?" 

 

"I'm not crazy about being called a slut, but nobody's ever told me I was beautiful before." 

 

"Of course I think you're beautiful." 

 

"Then I guess you can call me that name, but not in public." 

 

Why? Why him? "You still haven't answered my question. Why are you with me?" 

 

"Why am I arguing from inside a dumpster, Alex?" 

 

"Answer my question." 

 

"I just did." 

 

He stared down at her again. She stared back with a Cheshire cat grin. "Clarify that before I leave you here." 

 

"You don't make it easy for me." 

 

"What?!" 

 

"Look, we both know I'm smart, Alex. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a smart woman? Guys hate that! So you rule out about eighty-percent right there. You know what you're left with? Guys like Poodle-boy. And Mulder---" 

 

"You're not making sense, Ellen." 

 

"You don't give me an inch. You make me work for everything. You think Mulder would have left me in a dumpster? Yeah, he would have been laughing his ass off, but all I'd have to do is sniffle twice and I'd have been out of here." A deep breath as the small woman braced herself. "We've been arguing for almost an hour. I find that more attractive than your body or your talent in bed." 

 

It wasn't the 'I love you' he was hoping for, but it was close enough for government work. "Give me your hand."


	5. part 5

Marita couldn't take much more of this. "SHUT UP!!" 

 

"Look, bubbe, I'm trying to help you. With that attitude, how are you going to find a husband," Audrey asked. 

 

Three hours of this obnoxious JAP giving her hair and dating tips and Marita was thinking of creative ways to kill her. Methods that included cheap cosmetics and hair care products. Polyester and Wal-Mart fashions. "I'm not looking for a husband, I'm looking for revenge." 

 

"Look, doll, I'm sure Ellen didn't steal your boyfriend---" 

 

"He wants to marry this Feldman. She must have some kind of hold over him." Marita sniffed haughtily. "She must be more than just a lawyer -" 

 

"Of course she is -" 

 

"I knew it! Who does she work for!?" 

 

"Herself, darling, and making a nice living at it." 

 

"Alex wouldn't be interested unless she had connections." Marita stalked around the JAP, checking the handcuffs. This motel room was starting to get on her nerves. The color orange was a hideous color. Why did motels insist on decorating in this color. "How did she meet him?" 

 

Audrey shrugged as best she could with the handcuffs. "I had no idea she was seeing anybody. We went to the Camp Find-a-Mate dance tonight and she met this nice Jewish man, his name was Jeffrey Sponder - no Spender." 

 

"Spender? Special Agent Spender?" 

 

"I think so. A nice young man." 

 

"Young? He's the same age you are!" 

 

"I'm married and pregnant, pitsele, everybody who isn't seems young." Audrey gave another shrug, reminding Marita of Barbra Streisand in Yentl. "Who's this Alex? Is he Jewish?" 

 

It was going to be a long night until the drugstores opened. 

 

Winky complained as he inspected the cheap litter box. A swipe of a paw sent litter flying across the motel room. 

 

Alex sighed, scooped it up as best he could and threw the excess into the trash. Hard enough finding cat supplies at two in the morning, even harder finding a motel that would take pets, but now the cat wasn't happy with his accommodations. Just like his mother. Alex sank onto the edge of the bed and scratched the cat under the chin. "You're lucky I remembered to take you or you'd be bunking with the smoker tonight." 

 

"Myeh." 

 

Feldman emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. "How come we couldn't stay at your place, Alex?" 

 

"Because Marita was there tonight." 

 

"What?!" The towel fluttered to the floor and she stood in front of him, stark naked, hands on her hips. "What do you mean she was there!? What did you do? Pick her up at the Camp-Find-A-Spy Singles Dance for people with weird Slavic names?!" 

 

"You making fun of my name, Janine?" Did she have any idea how ridiculous she looked with only her glasses on? 

 

"Would I do that, Nikolai?" 

 

"You? Never." 

 

"You still haven't answered my question." Feldman moved closer, standing between his parted, denim clad thighs. "What was she doing in your bed - uh, house, I mean house?" 

 

Too damned inviting. He hooked his good arm around her waist, fell backwards onto the bed and pulled her down on top of him. Two startled brown eyes stared down at him and then she attacked his mouth with a savage, possessive kiss. Ah, jealous Feldman. He adored jealous Feldman. Krycek released his grip on her waist, lay back and let her ravish him. 

 

Feldman nipped her way down to his jeans, sucking at him through the denim. The heat of her mouth was starting to drive him crazy. "Answer my question, Alexei." 

 

"Alex." 

 

"Ratboy." 

 

"Alex." 

 

"Lunch-meat." 

 

"Feldman." 

 

"Feldman? Alex Feldman?" She glanced up at him, a mischievous expression in her eyes. "Alexander Nikolai Feldman, Esquire. I like it. It has a certain cachet." 

 

"All right, I'll talk if you stop butchering my name and start sucking me." 

 

"Say it." 

 

"Say what?" 

 

"You know." 

 

"Moi krasivya shalava?" 

 

"Yeah." She undid his fly with her teeth. "And while I'm sucking I want to hear all about Marita or your going to be doing your laundry by hand tonight, Ace." 

 

He was going to tell her as little as possible. Considering the job she was doing with her mouth, that wouldn't be difficult. 

 

"I have to go to the bathroom!" 

 

"You just went!" 

 

"I'm pregnant, for Gawd's sake," Audrey whined. "You think I enjoy peeing forty times a day? You think I like watching my ankles get fat? You think morning sickness is a picnic? Let me tell you---" 

 

"No. Let me tell you," Marita hissed, poking her guest on the nose with a red fingernail. "You are my hostage. You do what I say, when I say it, without question. This isn't some slumber party in Forest Hills. This is a power relationship. I have the power. You don't. Got that?" 

"Fine. Sure. Whatever. But if you don't take me to the bathroom in two minutes, there's going to be a puddle on your floor." 

 

Marita growled in frustration as she hauled her prisoner to her feet. If she killed Audrey in front of Alex, would he feel anything other than relieved? Probably not. "Where can I find your cousin?" 

 

"Have you called her? She's probably sitting by the phone, worried sick about me." 

 

"No, I haven't called her." 

 

"Then what are you waiting for? My Mark will pay the ransom. He's a successful plastic surgeon. Okay, we're not rich, but he'll pay---" 

"Shut up." 

 

It was going to be a long day. 

 

Jeffrey Spender was intrigued. Very few women intrigued him. Hell, very few women interested him. And even if they did, how could he have any kind of relationship? Sooner or later, women asked about his mother. But Ellen Feldman, Esquire seemed like the kind of woman who would understand. Well, maybe she'd understand if he could get her to talk to him again. 

 

It was kind of like Cinderella. She gave him her card and then vanished at the stroke of midnight. Okay, so it was a little after nine, but she still vanished. But not without a trace, thanks to his detective skills. Just because her home number wasn't listed didn't mean he couldn't use his badge number to get it. And once he had that number, he called her. That was when things got weird. 

 

All he did was call to make sure she got home safely. And he drove past her house. The lights were on, he saw movement, but she wasn't picking up her phone. After a couple of hang-ups where he chickened out, he left a message. Less than a minute after he hung up, his cell phone rang, but nobody was on the other end. A simple *69 later, he got Ellen's machine again and left another message. That earned him another hang up. The process was repeated more than a few times, and, feeling silly, he left a few more messages. He hoped Ellen wouldn't mind. 

This morning, he called to invite her to breakfast, leaving the message on her machine. She still hadn't called him back. No hang-ups, either. 

It was unusual. And intriguing. Maybe he should drive by her place again... 

 

He shouldn't be doing this. Then again, he should be doing it because it was for Feldman's own protection and if Marita called, he'd like to know about it first. After all, the smoker ordered him to protect Feldman and who was Alex Krycek to question orders? Alex braced himself and punched in Feldman's code for her answering machine. 

 

Twelve messages. Four from a guy named Mark and eight of them from Jeffrey Spender. He was going to kill her. No, he was going to kill that punk, Spender. Calm down, Alex, he told himself. She couldn't have encouraged Spender, could she? That dress... that dress was encouragement enough. That punk Spender better not have mowed his lawn. 

Alex scowled and studied the sleeping lawyer carefully. No bite marks on her, other than the ones he put there himself. But then again, was Spender the kind of guy to leave a bite mark? No, Spender was the kind of guy who knew three positions and had to ask the woman if she came. Eight phone calls. Breakfast. Something had to have happened. Nobody got that obsessed that fast. Not without a good reason. And if you were as boring as Spender and got lucky with a firecracker like Feldman --- no! Yes? Maybe. She called Spender 'Poodle-boy'. She called Alex 'Ratboy'. Animal fetish? Maybe. No. Yes. Maybe. 

 

His lawn had been mowed. 

 

He was sure of it. 

 

Somebody was going to die. Horribly. 

 

And who the hell was Mark?! 

 

Ellen was aware of two things. She was being watched and she really, really needed a cup of coffee. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. 

Winky was lying on the night stand, watching her intently. He favored her with the kind of extra-large yawn only cats are capable of and rolled onto his back. The white belly-fur was irresistible and she buried her face in it, kissing the cat noisily. 

 

She was still being watched. 

 

"Forgetting somebody?" A finger traced a lazy path along her spine, down, down... 

 

"You want me to bury my face in your belly too, Alex?" Ellen turned her attention to her Ratboy. Jealous of Winky, was he? If scritches was what he wanted, scritches he was going to get. With a grin, she did the 'baby' voice and scratched him under the chin. "Good mewning, my furry little darling...yes, mommy's little angel..." 

 

"Cut it out." 

 

"Not yet. You want the full treatment, Winky Junior, you're gonna get it." She leaned over and kissed his stomach as noisily as she did Winky's. 

 

"A little lower, Feldman." 

 

"I don't kiss Winky there." 

 

"Who have you been kissing there?" 

 

"What?" Ellen blinked, confused. 

 

"Who's Mark?" 

 

"Mark?" Crap! Audrey's husband. Calling for Audrey. And Audrey wasn't there. Ellen was doomed. Doomed. Wait. How did Ratboy know who Mark was? "Why do you ask?" 

 

"You got four messages from him." Suspicious green eyes peered at her intently, even as the rest of his face was utterly impassive. 

 

How did he check -- -oh, never mind. Any idiot could lift the cover of an answering machine and learn the code. And was her Ratboy jealous? Yes. Hmm, this might be fun to play with before she clued him in. "Does that bother you, Alex?" 

 

"Should it bother me?" 

 

"I don't know. Should I be bothered about Kurt, Conrad, Marita, and whoever else you hang around with?" 

 

"Kurt and Conrad were business. Was Mark business?" 

 

"No. Mark is personal." 

 

Krycek sat up slowly, his eyes boring into hers. Ellen supposed if she'd actually done something, the intense stare would have her guts quivering like lime jello. Instead, she was biting her lips to keep from laughing. "He's personal? In what way is he personal?" 

 

Ellen ran her tongue over her lips. Yeah, he liked that one, didn't he? Guess he hadn't seen 'Working Girl' as many times as he should have, otherwise he'd recognize that little move. "Why?" 

 

"Because I'd like to know if somebody's been mowing my lawn." 

 

That was her line! He stole her line! And he was insinuating that she wasn't monogamous. Ellen would've been pissed if it weren't so funny. "And if somebody has?" 

 

"If somebody has, I'd like to know." 

 

"What makes you think I've been mowed?" 

 

"Eight messages." 

 

"Eight? I thought you said Mark called four times." 

 

"Mark called four. Your friend Jeff called eight. Six times last night and twice this morning to ask if you were free for brunch." 

 

Ah, now she saw. It wasn't Mark that had him in an uproar, it was Poodle-boy. "Jeff called that many times?" 

 

"Yes." 

 

"Oh my." 

 

"That's all you have to say?" 

 

"No." 

 

"Well?" 

 

"You're cute when you're jealous, Ratboy." 

 

"I knew it," he barked. "You've got a thing for animal names! Poodle-boy! Ratboy! What was Mulder?! Foxboy?!" 

 

That was it. She started giggling. Foxboy, yet. Oh, that was a good one. She'd have to use that on Mulder. 

 

"What?" He squeezed her shoulder lightly. "What's so funny?" 

 

"Oh, Ra-- -uh, Alex." Ellen ran a finger over his lips. "Alex. Mark is Audrey's husband. He wants to know why his wife didn't call him and we have to make sure he didn't call the cops, otherwise we're going to have a mess on our hands." 

 

"And Spender?" 

 

"What can I say? It was late, I was drunk---" 

 

"That bastard! I'll strangle him with his own intestines -" 

 

"Ewwww!" Ellen shook her head to get rid of that image. "Don't you think I'd have better taste than that?" 

 

"He called eight times." Krycek kissed the tip of her nose. "Men don't do that without a reason." 

 

"Um, maybe he's nuts?" 

 

"Maybe you flirted with him and gave him your number?" 

 

"Maybe he got it through his job?" 

 

"Maybe if he calls again you'll tell him to take a hike." 

 

"Maybe. Maybe not. You gonna behave yourself, Ratboy?" 

 

"Alex. My name is Alex." 

 

"You gonna behave yourself, Alex?" 

 

"No, I'm bad." 

 

"You're not bad. Just misunderstood." 

 

"Misunderstood?" 

 

"I understand you perfectly." 

 

"See if you understand this." 

 

"Oooooh."


	6. part 6

"I don't blame that Alex person for taking up with my cousin," Audrey declared. "You're not a nice woman." 

 

Marita blotted her lipstick and glared at her prisoner. Her prisoner. There was a laugh. It was Marita who was the prisoner here. Waiting on this annoying, spoiled pregnant bitch hand and foot. Water. Trips to the bathroom. Morning sickness. Bloating. It was enough to drive her over the edge. "I'm not a nice woman? No? Haven't I gotten you saltines and club soda and taken you to the bathroom every twenty minutes? Didn't I let you brush your hair and your teeth and wash your face? Didn't I ---?" 

 

"Nice women don't kidnap people." 

 

"Being nice doesn't get you anywhere---" 

 

"Maybe if you were nice, your shkutz boyfriend wouldn't have taken up with my cousin. She needs a Gentile boyfriend like she needs a hole in her head." Audrey sniffed disdainfully. "All her life, we warned her not to take up with goyim. Stay away from them, we said. Think about the children. My child is going to be raised Jewish and let me tell you---" 

 

"That's it! Shut up!" 

 

"What?" 

 

"SHUT UP!" It was time to get rid of the excess baggage. 

 

Jeffrey Spender was worried. Eight messages and Ellen didn't call him back. On a whim, he ran a check on her address, just in case something happened. Oh. Dear. God. A missing persons report. Two missing people. Ellen Feldman and Audrey Rosenbaum. 

 

Now he could legitimately do a background check on Ellen. He liked to do them on all the women he thought about dating. 

 

Oh. Dear. God. 

 

No. 

 

Fox Mulder stared morosely at his Close Encounters of the Third Kind poster. Skinner gave it to him as an office-warming gift. This office needed all the warming it could get. It was a cramped, hideous little broom closet that didn't have half the atmosphere of the basement. It was right that Spooky Mulder should be kept in the basement. It was not right that Spooky Mulder was stuck in a former audio visual room on the eighth floor. 

 

The door to the tiny office flew open and an agitated Jeffrey Spender stormed in. "Where is she?!" 

 

"I told you, Spender, your mother will be found." 

 

"Not my mother, you lunatic. Ellen Feldman." 

 

"Feldman?" Feldman? What did Spender know about Feldman? 

 

"She's missing." 

 

"And you're involved because....?" 

 

"I had a date with her for brunch and she didn't show up." 

 

Ewwwwww. He wouldn't have shown up, either, if he were Feldman. Besides, wasn't she supposed to be in love with Ratboy? "You had a date with her?" 

 

"Sort of. That's not the point. The point is that there's a missing persons report on her and her cousin and---" 

 

"And you think they were abducted by aliens?" 

 

"No. I just know that anybody who gets involved with you disappears." 

 

"Why don't you ask your daddy for help? He's the one who makes those people disappear." 

 

Spender's jaw clenched. "He's not --- Never mind. The hell with you." 

 

Mulder locked the door behind Spender and heaved a relieved sigh. Why him? Oh, that's right. He had an affair with Ellen Feldman. 

 

"Shouldn't we be out looking for Audrey?" 

 

"No." Alex tapped the pen against his teeth and pondered the four letter word that went with 'kleine Nachtmusik' for the answer to sixty-three across. 

 

"But -" 

 

"Read your magazine." 

 

Feldman dropped it on the newspaper in front of him. "I asked for 'Motor Trend' not 'Modern Bride'." 

 

"They didn't have 'Motor Trend.'" 

 

"So you got me this instead?" 

 

"Yeah. What's the difference?" He knew damned well what the difference was, of course. And they did have a copy of 'Motor Trend' but when he saw the bridal magazine, Alex knew he'd get more than his four dollars' worth of entertainment out of it. Besides, there was a dress on page 179 that he kind of liked. 

 

"There's a big difference between the Callaway ZR-1 and a Vera Wang silk chiffon gown." 

 

"Vera Wang? You like those?" 

 

"I don't know. I've never really paid much attention to them." 

 

Yeah, right. She knew what they were. "Here's your chance." 

 

"Please, I'm still having nightmares about the bridesmaid's dress I had to wear for Audrey's wedding. It was the most putrid shade of lavender you've ever seen." Her nose wrinkled. God, he loved the way she wrinkled her nose. "And so poufy I looked like a purple Michelin man." 

 

"I'd bet you'd look really sexy in a simple little sheath. A soft, ivory color. Maybe like...." He flipped the pages until he found the Armani ad. "...this one. What do you think?" 

 

"I think it costs more than any car I've ever owned." 

 

"You want it?" 

 

Feldman stared at him, her eyebrow arched incredulously. "Yeah, Alex, buy it for me. In fact, why don't you buy me two in case I retain water? And why don't we book the Waldorf or Windows on the World? Maybe we can hire Madonna to sing, while we're at it." 

 

Oooh. Snippy! He gave her his most sincere look. "Whatever you want, kitten. All you have to do is say yes." 

 

"My mother would die if she could hear you say that." 

 

"After we recover Audrey, I'll be happy to say that to your mother." 

 

"So why aren't we out there trying to recover Audrey?" 

 

"Because my orders are to watch you." 

 

"I'm giving you new orders," Feldman declared. "Find Audrey." 

 

If she weren't serious, he'd be laughing at her. "Didn't we agree that you don't assign me work any more?" 

 

"We have to clear it with the smoker first." She folded her arms across her chest. "So until we do, you still report to me and I order you to find Audrey." 

 

"I'm not your pet Terminator, Feldman." 

 

"Alex!" 

 

"Ellen?" 

 

"Please? I don't trust those people to find her. You're the only one I trust." 

 

Oh, there they were again. Bambi eyes. Did he buy that bit about him being the only one she could trust? Did it matter? "I can't disobey orders, Feldman. It could get us both killed." 

 

"But -" 

 

"You said you trust me. Do you?" 

 

"Yes, but -" 

 

"Yes or no?" 

 

"Yes, but Audrey---" 

 

"Audrey will be fine. I promise." He hoped. 

 

Free! She was free! No more whining. No more trips to the bathroom. No more discussions about collagen, silicone or saline implants. No more hair or dating tips. No more discussions of Jew versus Gentile as the ideal mate. 

 

Free at last. Free at last! Thank God, she was free at last. 

 

Marita put the car into drive, stomped on the gas and peeled out without a second thought. Audrey was somebody else's problem now. 

 

Chris Johnson had a problem. The lady in aisle three was crying hysterically and scaring the other customers. All he did was say, 'Hi. Welcome to Wal-Mart' and the water-works began. He would have offered her a tissue, but those were in aisle eight. 

 

"Ma'am? Can I help you? Ma'am?" 

 

The woman stopped sobbing for a moment, eyed his name-badge and then cried even harder. 

 

"Ma'am, please, this is Wal-Mart." Chris was almost frantic. All the Wal-Mart training in "aggressive hospitality" didn't prepare him for this one. Crying children? Lollipops. Customer complaints about prices? Mark it down. Item out of stock? Call the nearest store. But hysterical women in the pet care section? Sam Walton himself would have been dumb-founded. "Ma'am? Are our everyday low prices not low enough on the item you were looking for?" 

 

"I need a phone." 

 

Ahhh, now he understood. Electronics. A lot of women had trouble with that section and the hardware section. "Ma'am, our Electronics department is right this way. One of our associates will be happy to help you pick---" 

 

"No, you moron! I need a phone! I was just kidnapped!" 

 

"In Wal-Mart?" 

 

"Just get me to a phone so I can call my husband and the police." 

 

"We have a security guard---" 

 

The woman glared at him. Her mascara had run and caked on her face and the effect was not unlike being stared down by a rabid raccoon. Chris shivered involuntarily. "Yes, ma'am. Our pay phones are this way."


	7. part 7

Jeffrey Spender was not in a good mood. It was not even noon on a Saturday and he was in the office, trying to make sense of Ellen Feldman's life. Unfortunately, nothing about the woman made sense. Her employment history...well, she worked for the Bureau. That was a surprise. Now she was self-employed. Feldman's credit history was a nightmare, thanks to woefully delinquent student loans. 

 

It was the police reports that completely threw him. Eleven breaking and enterings in two years. One aggravated assault. Twenty-nine missing persons reports. One tremendous car accident. No arrests. The alleged perp for all of these was one Alexander Nikolai Krycek, former FBI and now one of America's Most Wanted. What the hell kind of sick freak was Krycek, kidnapping Ellen so many times? And why didn't anybody arrest him? 

 

"You should let the Feldman matter drop, Jeffrey." The door to Spender's office opened so silently, he didn't notice his visitor until the man spoke. 

 

"Who the hell are you?!" 

 

A sigh and a click of a lighter. "I told you. I'm your father." 

 

"Who's this Krycek guy," Spender demanded. "He's got Ellen and her cousin, doesn't he?" 

 

"It doesn't concern you, Jeffrey. I have another matter for you to look into. One that will aid you in your journey on the fast track." 

 

Spender got to his feet and pouted. If this really was his father, the bastard owed him. Big time. All those missed birthdays and Chanukas. Those parent-teacher conferences. School plays. Father's day. The cruel taunting of other kids who had fathers. "I want her." 

 

"She's not for you. I can arrange anybody else---" 

 

"I want Ellen Feldman." 

 

"Jeffrey---" 

 

"And Alex Krycek. I want his ass, too." 

 

"We'll see." 

 

Spender was about to press the issue but the smoker let himself out, leaving a crushed Morley in his wake. 

 

Ellen tapped her foot impatiently but her Ratboy turned his back and continued his monosyllabic conversation with the unknown person on the other end of the cell phone. 

 

"Uh-huh. Yeah. OK." 

 

It wasn't like him to be so inarticulate. Even in bed he managed to string colorful phrases together. And in a whole bunch of languages, too. 

 

"Right. Thanks." 

 

"Well?" 

 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" 

 

"Just thinking." 

 

"About?" 

 

"How many languages you speak." 

 

A puzzled stare. "I speak nine. Why?" 

 

"No reason." Nine languages. Had she heard all of them in bed yet? She didn't think so. Well, they had the rest of today and --- 

 

"They found your cousin." 

 

There went the rest of today. "Really?" 

 

"You sound disappointed." Krycek ran his tongue over his lips and Ellen watched, fascinated. Did guys do stuff like that? And if they did, should it have that effect? "Don't be. You'll get your chance to hear the other five languages." 

 

How did he know?! She swallowed hard and tried to banish the image of him saying something completely filthy in Swahili while she took the Fox's U-Bet Syrup and attempted to make a Ratboy-flavored egg cream and --- Yeah, better to not think of that. Not now, anyway. "So, uh, Alex, where's Audrey?" 

 

"Weston, West Virginia." 

 

"What the hell is in Weston, West Virginia?" 

 

Krycek grinned slyly. "You'll see when we get there." 

 

Her eyes wandered to the crotch of his jeans and back up to his face again. So what if he was watching her check him out? It looked like he was enjoying every second of it. "Alex?" 

 

"Yes, kitten?" 

 

"Is Audrey...safe for the time being?" 

 

"Yeah, she's comfortable." 

 

"Would half an hour, give or take a few minutes make much difference?" 

 

The corners of his mouth quirked and then she found herself on the receiving end of a full Ratboy leer. "I don't think so. What do you have in mind?" 

 

"Do you speak Swahili?" 

 

Feldman was giggling. 

 

Alex stole a quick peek at the woman in the passenger seat of his car. Yup. That was giggling. Was it the Arabic? She looked so disappointed earlier when he told her he didn't speak Swahili, but when he spoke Arabic, Feldman brightened considerably and answered him in really shaky Hebrew. Their attempt at conversation died when he began using slang and she tore open his pants, mumbling something about U-Bet Syrup. 

 

Now she was giggling. "What is it?' 

 

"Just thinking about the first time you took me hostage." 

 

"Oh?" 

 

Feldman snuggled up against him and rested her hand on his thigh. "Mmm-hmmm. Remember? You marched me out of Mulder's mom's house at gunpoint, taped my hands together and made me get in your car." 

 

Where was she going with this? "Yeah. And?" 

 

"You were jealous because you planted a bug in Mulder's car and heard me doing things." 

 

Ohhhh. Now he knew where she was going. Especially when her hand was wandering to his crotch. God, she was utterly insatiable. Good thing he was, too. "That's right, Feldman." 

 

"Remember how I conned you into taking the tape off?" 

 

How could he forget? She kissed him --- 

 

"Kiss me, Alex. You've got lips like Val Kilmer." 

 

Yeah, that was the line. He didn't have lips like Val Kilmer, but damned if he didn't fall for it then. And Feldman was rubbing herself against him and fondling him through his jeans. Did she want to play? He turned, kissed her quickly and focused again on the traffic. 

 

"Alex..." 

 

"Yes, Feldman?" 

 

"Aren't you going to untie me? I can't give you that blowjob with my hands tied like this." 

 

Oh. Yes. How many times had he thought of that little episode? How many times did he fantasize that it didn't end with her braining him with her cast and leaving him on the side of the road? "Okay, Feldman. I'll untie you, but no tricks, understand? I've got the gun. I'm in charge." 

 

"You're in charge," Feldman repeated solemnly and then erupted into another fit of giggles. 

 

"Something funny?" 

 

She undid his jeans and slipped her hand inside. "No, this is very serious. And you ought to set the cruise control." 

 

"Done." 

 

Four years. He waited four years for this. 

 

It was worth the wait. 

 

"...so you see, that's why our everyday low prices keep going down," Chris explained. He was going to kill his manager for making him baby-sit this crazy woman. Nearly two hours since she called the cops and called her husband and whoever else she called and still nobody showed up. So he filled the time by taking her on an aisle-by-aisle tour of Wal-Mart. It was like an excruciating trip through all seven rings of Hell. 

 

Their first stop was the cosmetics counter where Jenna explained to Audrey - yes, that was the crazy lady's name - that you could get the same quality and results with L'Oreal cosmetics as you could with Lancome. Audrey took the opportunity to repair the damage to her make-up and Chris wondered who'd be paying for all those cosmetics she used. It sure as hell wasn't going to come out of his paltry five bucks an hour. 

 

There had been an incredibly long pause in the baby care section, where Audrey cooed over each item and expressed concern over the lack of designer names. The trip through automotive was decidedly quick. Audrey merely wrinkled her nose and declared that she was hungry. 

 

Not a problem in a Wal-Mart, Chris informed her. There was the little food counter where a hot dog could be had. Again, Audrey wrinkled her nose, but she ate three of them. 

 

Aggressive hospitality was starting to get on his nerves. His cheeks ached from the ever-present phony smile. Retail, Chris decided, was not for him. The fuck with this penny-ante job. He was going to go to law school and bleed corporate America dry. 

 

"What is that?!" 

 

Alex could barely contain the grin as he pulled his BMW into the Wal-Mart parking lot. With a flick of his wrist, he killed the engine and turned to nuzzle Feldman's neck. "Welcome to Wal-Mart." 

 

"Ewwwwwww!" She jerked away and stared at him with a horrified expression. "What are we doing here, Alex?" 

 

"We're retrieving Audrey, kitten." They would have been here much sooner if she hadn't gotten so excited from that blow-job that he had to pull off the road into the picnic area. Thank God the Bimmer had leather seats. And thank God the cop let them go with a warning and didn't recognize Alex as one of America's Most Wanted. 

 

"Audrey's in a Wal-Mart?" 

 

"Yup." 

 

"Ewwwwww!" 

 

"Get over it, will you? It's just a Wal-Mart." He guided her out of the passenger seat, through the parking lot and into the front doors of the discount giant. 

 

"Hi! Welcome to Wal-Mart!" A sunny-faced blonde girl smiled at them. Her name tag proclaimed her to be Candace. "Is there something special you're looking for?" 

 

Feldman backed up a step, cringing. "Alex, it smells in here." 

 

"That's the food stand, Ellen." With a gentle nudge, he urged her forward. "We're here to pick up Audrey Rosenbaum." 

 

"Oh, that poor woman," Candace sighed. "Can you believe she's never seen how low our prices are?" 

 

Alex had to restrain Feldman before she fled. "Is she here?" 

 

"She's having a snack with Chris." The peppy greeter gestured to the food stand where a small, dark-haired woman appeared to be complaining to an increasingly hostile-looking teen. 

 

"Is that your cousin, kitten?" 

 

Feldman nodded but didn't move. 

 

"Don't you want to go to her?" 

 

He never got to hear her answer. 

 

Audrey saw them and stood up. "Ellen Janine Feldman! Where have you been!? I've been waiting almost three hours!" 

 

This was Alex's first good look at the uberJAP. It was worse than he expected. Feldman was meticulous about her appearance but Audrey...dear God. The fake tan, the fake boobs...was there anything real left on her? She was about Ellen's height, but she had big Jersey hair and wore way too much makeup. Ellen said Audrey was one year older but she seemed about ten. And he'd bet his good arm that, unlike Feldman, Audrey was lousy in bed. 

 

"You must be Alex, the shkutz." Audrey's nose wrinkled as she looked him over and then she threw Ellen a disgusted look. "His shiksa ex-girlfriend kidnapped me. One look at this one and you knew she was a whore in her mother's stomach! Such a tramp with a filthy mouth, I never---" 

 

Feldman winced. "Audrey, I---" 

 

"This is what you get for dating goyim, Ellen," Audrey continued, self-righteously. "And look at him! He looks like a hood in that leather jacket -" 

 

"Don't you insult my fiance," Ellen snapped. 

 

Her what? Did she just say what he thought she said? 

 

"Your fiance? A shkutz? He's only got one arm!" 

 

Fighting words. Alex could hardly wait to see what his little Feldy would do to protect his honor. He didn't have a long wait. 

 

"First of all, he's half-Jewish," Ellen said, coldly. "On his mother's side. As for the arm, don't be politically incorrect. My Alex used to work for the FBI and lost it in the line of duty, not that it's any of your business. And yes, he's my fiance." 

 

"Really? Where's the ring?" 

 

"It's being sized." 

 

How could he pass up this opportunity? Feldman was at her most competitive and if he pushed just enough, she'd tell him she loved him just to spite Audrey. Alex reached into his jacket and retrieved the small velvet box. "Actually, kitten, I picked it up yesterday." 

 

"Alex...." 

 

Oh, she was trapped now. Perfect. Awkward as hell to open the box, transfer it to his prosthetic hand and pluck out the ring with his good hand but he did it and managed to tuck the box in his jacket. "Gimme your hand, honey." 

 

Warily, Feldman stuck out her hand and he slipped the ring on. 

 

"Oh my Gawd," Audrey exclaimed. "It's gorgeous!" 

 

"And it's bigger than yours," Alex said, softly. "More expensive, too. Yours is a VVS2. Ellen's diamond is VVS1." 

 

The two women stared down at the diamond ring. One stared in shock, the other with a jealous glare. 

 

"Does Aunt Judith know about him," Audrey asked, finally. 

 

Feldman swallowed and shook her head. "Not yet. He just proposed on Friday." 

 

"Friday? For Gawd's sake! Why did you let me schlep you to the singles dance if you just got engaged!?" 

 

"Yeah, Ellen, why did you let her schlep you to the singles dance after you agreed to marry me," Alex asked. When was the last time he saw Feldman squirm like this? "Don't you love me?" 

 

Yes! He had her now! There was no way she could get out of telling him she loved him. Not when he had her cornered like this. 

 

"Give me a W!" 

 

What the hell --?! 

 

A group of perky blue-smocked Wal-Mart staffers surrounded them. Young faces, old, varying nationalities. A true cultural mosaic. And they were doing the Wal-Mart cheer. 

 

"Give me an A!" 

 

"Give me an L!" 

 

"Give me a squiggly!" 

 

"Give me a gun," Feldman begged. 

 

Audrey simply burst into tears. 

 

Why? Why him? 

 

There were things about men that Ellen Janine Feldman knew she would never understand and she accepted it as one of the things in life that she could not change, no matter how hard she tried. And then there was her Ratboy. Rules that applied to ordinary men did not apply where her Ratboy was concerned. Yes, he did ordinary guy things like watch ball games, drink beer and get jealous if other men looked at her, but then there were the sneaky, sexy, conniving things her Ratboy did. And she never, ever knew if she was going to get the ordinary guy Ratboy or the sneaky, sexy, conniving Ratboy. 

 

Which was why they were staring at each other in his living room. Audrey was on her way back to New Jersey, planning her baby shower and Ellen's wedding shower and whatever else Audrey did to fill her days. Even Winky was happy to see her go. But now that they were alone, all they were doing was staring at each other. The silence was starting to get on her nerves. 

 

Finally, her Ratboy heaved a sigh and held out his palm. "Okay, Cinderella, time to give back the glass slipper." 

 

"What?" 

 

"The engagement ring, Feldman." 

 

Say what!? "Why?" 

 

Her Ratboy favored her with a calm, measuring look as they locked eyes. "Because you're not ready to get married. Unless you've changed your mind?" 

 

Ellen looked down at the big, sparkling diamond, then back up at those big, sparkling green eyes. 

 

"You want to keep it?" 

 

"Well, I -" 

 

"All you have to do is say three little words." 

 

Was he starting this again? Did he really think she was going to give up her advantage that easily? Sighing, she slid the ring off her finger and placed it in his hand. 

 

If he was disappointed, he hid it well. "Are you sure?" 

 

She found herself staring wistfully at the glorious, shining object in his hand. "Why do you want to get married, Ratboy?" 

 

"What?!" Krycek's fist closed around the ring and he stared at her incredulously. "What do you mean, why do I want to get married? Why does everybody else get married? And my name is Alex! Alex! Got that?!" 

 

She got it, but did she really want it? "Well, that's kind of my point. Ordinary people get married. We, my dear Alexander, are not an ordinary couple." 

 

"Aren't we?" 

 

"You tell me." 

 

She watched as he paced the living room. Man, did it smell like vodka in here. Thank goodness the new carpet was coming tomorrow. Maybe next time he'd think before chucking a bottle of Stoli at somebody. Maybe next time he'd think before getting involved with a shiksa. Well, wait a second, if he belonged to her, there wouldn't be a next time, would there? Maybe the engagement ring wasn't a bad idea after all. 

 

Finally, he stopped pacing and stood directly in front of her. Uncomfortably close, as a matter of fact, but damned if she'd step back. "Why aren't we an ordinary couple, Feldman?" 

 

"Ellen. My name is Ellen." 

 

An exasperated sigh. "Why aren't we an ordinary couple, Ellen?" 

 

"How did we meet? How many dates have we had? What's my favorite color? What's my favorite movie?" Ellen tried to recall all those other basic things you talked about on boring dates with boring guys, like that idiot Poodle-boy. "What's your favorite color and movie? Toilet paper over or under? Toilet seat up or down? What about---" 

 

"Toilet seat down, unless you want Winky to learn how to swim. I don't give a damn which direction the paper goes as long as it's there." He crouched so they were eye level. "As for the rest of those questions, kitten, I'll agree that we didn't meet under the most ordinary of circumstances and that our relationship hasn't exactly followed all the rules. One rule I would like to follow is getting married." 

 

"Why?" There. Now he was the one who had to say 'I love you'. Let him weasel his way out of that! 

 

"Don't you want a commitment?" 

 

"What for?" 

 

"What do you mean, what for?" Ratboy was scowling now. 

 

Ellen scowled right back. "Say I give you this commitment. What happens if you have orders to go sleep with somebody? Would you do it?" 

 

The scowl was replaced by a puzzled look. "What does that have to do with anything?" 

 

"You're asking me for a commitment. I want to know if it goes both ways." 

 

"It's just sex, Feldman. It doesn't mean anything." 

 

What? What kind of insane logic was that?! "So you wouldn't care if I went out there and had sex with..." Quick, think of somebody. "Mulder?" 

 

"No." 

 

"What about Jeffrey Spender?" 

 

Krycek straightened up abruptly and glared down at her. "Stay away from him." 

 

"Mulder's okay but Spender isn't?" 

 

"That's right." 

 

"Explain that." 

 

"No." 

 

"But it's okay for you to fool around with Kurt, Conrad, Marita, Mulder, Scully, Skinner, the Rockettes or the Denver Broncos because it's just sex, right?" 

 

"You don't want to get married, Feldman? Forget I asked." He stuffed the ring in the pocket of his jeans. 

 

"I'm asking why you think it's okay to have sex with other people." 

 

"Because it's business." 

 

"But you like it." 

 

"Don't you like your job?" 

 

"Yeah, but I don't have sex with my clients." This was going nowhere. Ellen decided to pursue another line of questioning. "What kind of commitment did you want from me, if you don't care about monogamy?" 

 

"You know." 

 

"No, I don't." A commitment, but it was okay to sleep around with everybody except Poodle-boy. It was too confusing. And she really, really wanted that ring. 

 

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
